Page 13 of Just Playin'
So, having someone like Willow call it as it is isn’t just amusing to watch, it’s refreshing.
I’m snapped from dark and dreary thoughts when candy crunching sounds through my ears.
“Are you eating my candy?”
Willow’s light blue eyes lock with mine. “No.” The smears of chocolate on her teeth reveal her lie, much less the brown dribble pooling in the corner of her plump lips. “I’m eatingmycandy. I don’t care what any of you say, a straightalwaysbeats a flush.”
Stealing my chance to reply, she stands from her seat and makes her way across the room. I had wondered earlier if the wine she had with dinner added to her sultry walk. It didn’t. She hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in over three hours, yet her walk is still as sexy as fuck.
I stop staring at the generous sway of her ass when she renegotiates our deal, “Best out of three. Winner takes all.” She nudges her head to a large billiard table.
I’m fucking wrecked. I was up at six this morning for a PT session to loosen my muscles before I was assessed by the team doctors at eight AM to ensure I was fit to play, but not even drooping eyelids will make me decline Willow’s challenge. I don’t back down when challenged. Not even when the odds are stacked against me.
My imminent return to my glory days will be undeniable proof of that.
“ITHOUGHTyou said you’ve played before?”
Willow attempts to roll her eyes. They only get halfway around before they do a weird twitchyI look like I’m having a fitspasm. After returning them front and center with a shake of her head, she narrows them at me. “I have played before. . .just not on a table this big.”
“Not accustomed to handling big things?”
Cocking her hip, she spreads her hand across its generous swell. She looks like she wants to say something, but she can’t. She walked straight into that one, and she knows it.
After a few seconds of deliberation, she finally unearths a comeback. “I’ve handled my fair share.”
Even though she’s a terrible liar, anger is the first thing to pummel me.Or is it jealousy?Whatever the fuck it is, I shouldn’t be feeling it. Willow’s not here for a long time. She’s the post-game entertainment Dalton and I skipped tonight to check on Becca. She’s full of fun, but only recommended in minimal doses.
Pissed—more at myself than Willow’s inability to hit a cue ball—I head to her side of the table. “You need to hit the white ball.”
She glares at me. “I know that, you nincompoop. It’s working out how to reach it when it’s in the middle of the friggin’ table. Unlike you, I don’t have octopus tentacles for arms.” She snaps her eyes to Becca and sighs. “Why did you partner me with him again? I thought we had sisterhood vibes going on.”
Becca smiles before cuddling into Dalton’s side. She’s not cozying up; she’s holding him down so he can’t retaliate to her reply. “Dalton doesn’t like watching me play with other men’s cue sticks.”
“Damn straight,” Dalton agrees without pause.
I wish they were joking, but not even the giant baby bump separating them can come between Dalton’s possessiveness of Becca. How do I know this? I may have used his neurosis against him a handful of times the past nine years. The first time was during a competition similar to this. It was the night Dalton was smacked on his ass by a brunette way out of his league. He and Becca have been inseparable ever since.
With that night on my mind, I put my cue stick in its rack before moving closer to Willow. She watches me with the same doe-eyed look she’s been giving me all night. It’s not a shy look. It’s more uneasy than anything. She can’t read me, and it’s frustrating her as much as my cock’s numerous meetings with my zipper anytime she purses her lips has frustrated me. She has a mouth men can’t help but pay attention to, because there’s no way lips as fleshy as hers wouldn’t give good head. They’re too meaty and erotic to belong to a good girl who’d never get on her knees. That’d be a grave injustice to mankind. God would never be so cruel.
Pretending my dick isn’t once again consulting with my zipper, I say, “You need to brace your arm better so your stick doesn’t bow no matter how loose your hold is.”
I adjust one of her hands until it’s halfway down her cue before moving her other one to the very bottom. “Gentle, Buttercup. Do you strangle a cock when you caress it? Or do you apply just enough pressure it feels both nice and firm?”
My zipper bites my cock when she replies, “Depends. Some guys like it rough.”
With a wink revealing she didn’t just return my serve, she ended our game altogether, she arches over the billiard table. Her shirt clings to her skin when I place my hand on the small of her back.
“You’re not waiting for him to climb aboard and take himself for a ride, Willow. You’re meant to ride him as much as he rides you.” Ignoring the fact her ass is in prime position for me to whip out my cock and drive home, I growl, “Lower.”
Willow drops her ass an inch.
“Lower.”
She bobs down another half-inch.
“Even lower.”
Becca giggles when Willow roars, “Jesus Christ, Elvis! Am I fucking the table or is the table fucking me?”
